FICLET: Mother; Mrs Black/Regulus, Sirius/Regulus, R
This was written for hp_despoiled's Non-Con Challenge, is one of my extremely rare het pieces, is chan & non-con, and is somewhat of a harrowing read (emotionally wrenching more than anything). Sensitive souls may wish to skip it.
Love & Serpents' Kisses,
Anath.
Title: Mother
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Mrs Black/Regulus Black, implied Sirius/Regulus
Summary: When a mother’s love becomes twisted obsession…
Rating: R
Warnings: Het, chan, incest, non-con, M/M slash, h/c, AU
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5
Disclaimer: All characters and profits belong to J.K Rowling. I made up this sad little tale.
“… der Mutter die mich nie geboren
hab ich heute Nacht geschworen
ich werd ihr eine Krankheit schenken
und sie danach in Fluss versenken…”
- from “Mutter” by Rammstein
To her son, she was beauty itself and love itself, although she was regal and stately rather than alluring, and her affections were sometimes given with great intensity and at other times withheld. He adored her kisses above all else, those kisses bestowed when he awoke in the morning and went to bed as the moon rose. Brushing against his cheeks and lips like butterfly wings, her rare and costly perfume wafting into his hair, leaving traces of its floral scent upon his skin as she caressed him. It felt so natural and right to belong to her, to be a darling trinket, a cherished bauble in her eyes. A mother’s tenderness towards her fragile, helpless offspring is the purest and most precious of blessings, after all.
Young Regulus worshipped her; to be seated on her lap and cradled lovingly against her was paradise itself. He enjoyed the rich liqueur chocolates and pieces of sugary Turkish delight she fed him, so much more sophisticated and grown up than the Chocolate Frogs and Fizzing Whizbees he and his brother Sirius bought with their pocket money on their trips to Honeydukes in Hogsmeade. And Regulus always felt a surge of pride, and something deeper, at being shown off to the grand, magnificently dressed pure-blood ladies who were Mother’s friends. He would always be resplendent in elaborate dress robes of midnight blue or black with stiff Victorian lace collars. He would often be called upon to play some light little classical piece on the piano for Mother’s guests - it made her smile one of her rare and radiant smiles to hear him do so. She would call him her beautiful boy, her cherub, an exquisite little angel summoned from times past when children were still innocence incarnate, their parents’ jewels, docile and decorative. Unlike the disgusting, unruly youth of the modern age with their slang and swearing and rudeness, tolerating Mudbloods and adopting Muggle ways.
Through the simple eyes of childhood, Regulus viewed his mother as a goddess, ultimate perfection. He was but a naïve lad, shielded from the hardships of the world, after all, and her love was all and everything to him. The sole cause of his few screaming tantrums was fighting with his brother over Mother’s state of mind. Any suggestion that Mother was not flawless sent Regulus into a fit of white-hot anger, although even as he defended his divine beloved, doubts prickled at the innermost recesses of his soul.
For it could not be denied that Mrs Black was a profoundly troubled woman; Regulus was desolate when sudden violent outbursts, dark slow-burning fury or floods of weeping would descend upon her. It was then that skilled mediwitches and Healers were called to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Mrs Black would have to be sequestered away from her husband and sons whilst potions were mixed for her and many spells cast, some for healing and others for silence so the children would be sheltered from her screams.
Little Regulus dreaded and feared each and every one of these mournful occurrences, which seemed to be increasing at a terrifying rate as the years passed. Being away from his mother was heartbreaking, even more so than it was for Sirius, who was not the favoured son. Rare glimpses of Mother in her dark, depressive moods chilled Regulus to the bone, her voice and her eyes were cold and frightening.
Mother always returned to sanity eventually, and seeing her come back from the bleakness of her own delusions, calm and lucid and smiling, reminded Regulus time and time again of what Mother meant to him. If he ever lost her, life would be pointless.
What terrified Regulus most was not his mother’s periodic madness, however, but the calm before the storm when even her adoration for him turned sinful, dark and menacing. Her embraces were cloying and possessive; she would strip him naked to caress him, or lurk in wait for him at bath times before he entered the ornate marble tub. She would kneel or lift him so her hands and tongue could curl around his inexplicably hardened little prick, or she would spread the delicate cleft of his arse open wide, circling the tiny pucker of his anus with a fingertip or thrusting her tongue within.
On these gloomy, fearful nights, Father was banned from Mother’s bedchamber; it was Regulus who lay in the four-poster bed as Mother’s paramour. That luxurious bed of mahogany and bronze, hung with black velvet draperies embroidered with silver swans - oh, how Regulus would grow to despise swans as he grew older! Regulus did not mind being held in Mother’s arms while sleeping, or even having Mother bare her breasts for him so that he could suckle on her swollen nipples (a reminder of more infantile delights so long ago). But he wished that she would refrain from letting a hand stray between his childish legs to knead and stroke his cock and balls, or making him move his hand in and out between her splayed thighs.
When dawn came after the silently shed tears of each seemingly eternal night in Mother’s bed, Regulus would slip quietly from beneath the sheets and flee to Sirius’ bedroom. It gave him some comfort to be close to Sirius, inhaling his warm scent while cradled in his older brother’s protective arms, and it did not feel like a dirty sin to be kissed or caressed by Sirius, or to feel Sirius’ prick moving tenderly within him.
Sirius would hold Regulus close, whispering words of gentle reassurance, wondering miserably how long he could let this all go on, how long it would take before he would have to leave his family. For despite all, Mother was Regulus’ world, and he would never agree to be parted from her.
~ Fin.
Love & Serpents' Kisses,
Anath.
Title: Mother
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Mrs Black/Regulus Black, implied Sirius/Regulus
Summary: When a mother’s love becomes twisted obsession…
Rating: R
Warnings: Het, chan, incest, non-con, M/M slash, h/c, AU
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5
Disclaimer: All characters and profits belong to J.K Rowling. I made up this sad little tale.
“… der Mutter die mich nie geboren
hab ich heute Nacht geschworen
ich werd ihr eine Krankheit schenken
und sie danach in Fluss versenken…”
- from “Mutter” by Rammstein
To her son, she was beauty itself and love itself, although she was regal and stately rather than alluring, and her affections were sometimes given with great intensity and at other times withheld. He adored her kisses above all else, those kisses bestowed when he awoke in the morning and went to bed as the moon rose. Brushing against his cheeks and lips like butterfly wings, her rare and costly perfume wafting into his hair, leaving traces of its floral scent upon his skin as she caressed him. It felt so natural and right to belong to her, to be a darling trinket, a cherished bauble in her eyes. A mother’s tenderness towards her fragile, helpless offspring is the purest and most precious of blessings, after all.
Young Regulus worshipped her; to be seated on her lap and cradled lovingly against her was paradise itself. He enjoyed the rich liqueur chocolates and pieces of sugary Turkish delight she fed him, so much more sophisticated and grown up than the Chocolate Frogs and Fizzing Whizbees he and his brother Sirius bought with their pocket money on their trips to Honeydukes in Hogsmeade. And Regulus always felt a surge of pride, and something deeper, at being shown off to the grand, magnificently dressed pure-blood ladies who were Mother’s friends. He would always be resplendent in elaborate dress robes of midnight blue or black with stiff Victorian lace collars. He would often be called upon to play some light little classical piece on the piano for Mother’s guests - it made her smile one of her rare and radiant smiles to hear him do so. She would call him her beautiful boy, her cherub, an exquisite little angel summoned from times past when children were still innocence incarnate, their parents’ jewels, docile and decorative. Unlike the disgusting, unruly youth of the modern age with their slang and swearing and rudeness, tolerating Mudbloods and adopting Muggle ways.
Through the simple eyes of childhood, Regulus viewed his mother as a goddess, ultimate perfection. He was but a naïve lad, shielded from the hardships of the world, after all, and her love was all and everything to him. The sole cause of his few screaming tantrums was fighting with his brother over Mother’s state of mind. Any suggestion that Mother was not flawless sent Regulus into a fit of white-hot anger, although even as he defended his divine beloved, doubts prickled at the innermost recesses of his soul.
For it could not be denied that Mrs Black was a profoundly troubled woman; Regulus was desolate when sudden violent outbursts, dark slow-burning fury or floods of weeping would descend upon her. It was then that skilled mediwitches and Healers were called to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Mrs Black would have to be sequestered away from her husband and sons whilst potions were mixed for her and many spells cast, some for healing and others for silence so the children would be sheltered from her screams.
Little Regulus dreaded and feared each and every one of these mournful occurrences, which seemed to be increasing at a terrifying rate as the years passed. Being away from his mother was heartbreaking, even more so than it was for Sirius, who was not the favoured son. Rare glimpses of Mother in her dark, depressive moods chilled Regulus to the bone, her voice and her eyes were cold and frightening.
Mother always returned to sanity eventually, and seeing her come back from the bleakness of her own delusions, calm and lucid and smiling, reminded Regulus time and time again of what Mother meant to him. If he ever lost her, life would be pointless.
What terrified Regulus most was not his mother’s periodic madness, however, but the calm before the storm when even her adoration for him turned sinful, dark and menacing. Her embraces were cloying and possessive; she would strip him naked to caress him, or lurk in wait for him at bath times before he entered the ornate marble tub. She would kneel or lift him so her hands and tongue could curl around his inexplicably hardened little prick, or she would spread the delicate cleft of his arse open wide, circling the tiny pucker of his anus with a fingertip or thrusting her tongue within.
On these gloomy, fearful nights, Father was banned from Mother’s bedchamber; it was Regulus who lay in the four-poster bed as Mother’s paramour. That luxurious bed of mahogany and bronze, hung with black velvet draperies embroidered with silver swans - oh, how Regulus would grow to despise swans as he grew older! Regulus did not mind being held in Mother’s arms while sleeping, or even having Mother bare her breasts for him so that he could suckle on her swollen nipples (a reminder of more infantile delights so long ago). But he wished that she would refrain from letting a hand stray between his childish legs to knead and stroke his cock and balls, or making him move his hand in and out between her splayed thighs.
When dawn came after the silently shed tears of each seemingly eternal night in Mother’s bed, Regulus would slip quietly from beneath the sheets and flee to Sirius’ bedroom. It gave him some comfort to be close to Sirius, inhaling his warm scent while cradled in his older brother’s protective arms, and it did not feel like a dirty sin to be kissed or caressed by Sirius, or to feel Sirius’ prick moving tenderly within him.
Sirius would hold Regulus close, whispering words of gentle reassurance, wondering miserably how long he could let this all go on, how long it would take before he would have to leave his family. For despite all, Mother was Regulus’ world, and he would never agree to be parted from her.
~ Fin.